It was a dark and stormy night. Bacon were being fried, in an ambient noise. A lighting cracked, and thunder boomed over the house, shaking it. We were forced to be in our bedrooms, the most safest place, people said. Then, we noticed a smoking smell, and realized that our bacon were being fried, and the heat was releasing an awful combination of smell and uncertainty. We rushed to the pan, turning it off, and then returned to our bedrooms. Soon, a lightning came again, this time, too close. The lighting smashed our roof, and hit the bacons, creating something quite remarkable. When the storm was over, they checked the damage, and saw somethibg quite unusual. A baconator.